I'm Not Quitting On You
by melliemellie
Summary: Alternative take on The Kiss That Saved Time (John/Desmond)


Des isn't a violent man, which is lucky for John because right now Des looks as though he wants to punch John right in the face. Which John deserves and then some and would gladly take over the alternatives any day. But Des doesn't hit him - because of course not, that'd leave John dealing with anger, which would be so much easier than the disappointment he's getting instead - he just watches through narrowed eyes and John has to fight the urge to take that gorgeous fucking face between his hands and kiss him until his lungs burn.

"Look," John continues, working very hard to hold back all the emotion that wants to leak out of his eyes. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that...I'm sorry you ever met me."

And that's true. As much as John cherishes every second he's ever had with Des, he'd give it all up in an instant if he could.

(It's not like he hasn't tried, the disastrous results being what've led him here.)

Des looks down with a weary sigh and shake of the head. But he isn't walking away yet so that's a good sign. Or not, depending on the point of view.

"Don't be sorry." There's a slight tremor in Des's voice as he speaks, quickly buried beneath a soft, rueful laugh. "Only a fool would fall in love with John Constantine and not expect it to be rocky."

John ducks his head. Rocky doesn't even begin to cover it.

"I knew the risks and I took them anyway. For you."

Their eyes meet and pain cuts through John, white hot and sharp as a blade. And, Jesus, if his heart doesn't shatter all over again with memories (ones he's _sure_ this time are real) of nights spent drowning in warm and endless honey brown.

But John will have to torture himself with those later because Des, in his own words, is still pissed and the time has come for John to fix what he broke. Again, he wants to go in for one last, bittersweet kiss, but he can't. It isn't his to take. It belongs to a different John, one who has no idea of the nightmare to come.

Except.

Des is here. He's _right here_. John can touch him, he can, god, he can _smell_ him, and he's giving John that look and all it'd take is a step, just one, and John's never been one for impulse control at the best of times and -

And that's why John _does_ take Des's face between his hands and kiss him.

His lungs don't burn but the rest of him does, the kiss desperate as all the pain and longing he's felt ever since he lost Des spills into it. The break in John's heart drives deeper, pushing the chasm between the halves even wider. But even as it's agony, John could never get enough. The softness of lips, the smell of cologne, Des's arms sliding around John's waist to pull him closer in a way that's so familiar. It's almost enough to make John forget what brought him here in the first place. Almost, _almost_ , enough to pretend that this is how things are supposed to be.

 _And why not?_ John thinks, not for the first time. So maybe Des should be nowhere fucking near John, but he should be alive, at least, and happy, and loved by someone who knows how to do it properly. And, when he dies, it should be decades from now, when he's old and grey, led by the angels to take his rightful spot in the heavens. He shouldn't have to suffer an eternity of torment for what is ultimately John's mistake. John knew he didn't deserve this right from the start, that this kind of life was never meant for him, but he was selfish enough to take it anyway.

Well, lesson learnt. He's not making this mistake ever again.

Through the kiss, John feels a spark ignite and a wave of energy spreads out all around them and his chest throbs at the unwelcome reminder of the fate this kiss has sealed. But he doesn't stop, just kisses Des all the harder, in apology and as a promise. John can't stop hell from taking him but he _will_ find a way to save him.

Eventually John has to pull away despite every fibre of his being wanting to cling to this moment and never let it go. He presses their foreheads together and keeps his eyes closed, not ready to face the reality he has to go back to.

"Johnny,"

John squeezes his eyes shut as the word softly brushes past his ear. He used to love that sound. Now it just makes him want to scream.

"I don't understand what's going on, but that felt like a goodbye to me."

Des cups John's face, forcing John to look up at him and, although John really doesn't want to look, he can't resist. Des is confused, which is understandable, but there's also hurt in his eyes and, oh, that's really not fair. How's John supposed to do what he has to when Des is giving him eyes like that?

"Where are you going, Johnny?"

Nowhere that he wants to. But John doesn't say it. Even if he could explain, in a few moments Des won't remember it anyway.

Holding Des's eyes, John reaches into his coat pocket.

"I want you to know, Des, that whatever happens, I'm not quitting on you."

He holds up the memory eraser and presses the button.

During Des's disorientation, John takes the chance to hide behind a nearby dumpster and watch as the old him returns with a smile on his face and a skip in his step that'll be noticeably absent a few months later. He looks so _happy_. A moment ago, John almost remembered what that felt like.

He watches, transfixed as they move into one another's space (seeing himself on tiptoes is enough to pull a small smile from John, despite the pain) and he's sure the world's spin slows as their lips come together.

"Goodbye, Des," John says as the two men, blissfully unaware, walk hand in hand back into the apartment.

Much later, John is back on the Waverider, sitting in the library with nothing but whiskey and his personal demons for company. Nobody's come to check on him (Ray hinted at a visit, but one look at John was enough to make him change his mind) and John's grateful for it. He's not in the mood for company right now.

Des's necklace hangs from his hand, the amulet catching the light as it spins. John's mind is doing the same, has been ever since he returned, trying to figure out a way to keep the promise he's made. There has to be a way, some loophole, trick or con, that can save Des's soul without unleashing Neron on this sorry plane, but so far he's coming up empty.

The pile of books in front of him haven't been any help, either. Not that he expected them to be. John nearly wore them down to dust when he first lost Des, hoping against hope they might offer some salvation. They didn't then and they won't now, but determination - or desperation - will have him reading through each book god knows how many more times just in case there's something he missed.

Perhaps it's time to see some old friends. Zatanna. Clarice. Fuck it, he'd even take Manny right now. Someone, somewhere has to know.

Gathering the necklace into his palm, John closes his fist around it and holds it up to his lips. He's not running anymore. Whatever this fight with Neron brings, John's going to see it through to the end.

And who knows, if there is a way to save Des's soul then maybe, just maybe, there might be a way to save Astra, too.

"One soul at a time, old son," John mutters, and finishes the last of the whiskey.


End file.
